


Nature's Embrace

by Silverblind



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Face-Sitting, Hate Sex, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Bondage, Male Human - Freeform, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top, female half-elf, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/Silverblind
Summary: Where a silver-tongued rogue goes too far, and a druid has had enough.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Nature's Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Not writing anything in months but then coming up with some nasty porn is starting to be my signature move...
> 
> Put this under D&D because that's what inspired me but it's so generic that it can be whatever honestly ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Blay was usually a light sleeper.

He had to be, really - in his line of work, sleeping too deeply could mean a knife across the throat to those who weren’t rich enough to hire guards, or have a place of their own they could protect with locks and traps. And even though he’s not in the city anymore, no longer surrounded by people even more cutthroat than himself and further away from his enemies than he could ever have imagined, even though he’s now with people who had proven time and again that they would put their own lives on the line to save his, old habits die hard, and Blay could never allow himself to completely let down his guard, even in sleep.

And yet, that night, even as roots and vines snake over his body, tying him to the ground with gentle pressure, he does not wake.

* * *

In the deep jungle he and his party now found themselves in, the days were hot and endless, and the nights too short, though no less suffocating. Therefore, earlier that evening, rather than sweat himself to death by sleeping near the fire, in the safety of the ring of light thrown by the flames, Blay had opted to step away and sleep in a pleasantly cool spot he had found amongst the roots of an old tree - barely a stone’s throw away from camp, but, apparently, still too far for his companions’ tastes. Argur and Lyranne had protested, arguing that they should stick close to each other in this strange place, but they knew him well enough to know there was no changing his mind once he’d decided on something, and they had eventually relented, making him take the second watch - the one they know he hates most - in retaliation. But if it meant sleeping even one night without waking up feeling as if not a single drop of water remained in his body, Blay would gladly have taken the second watch all through the next week - not that he’d told them that, of course. And all the while, as they’d argued and threatened and bartered, Alanai had watched them in silence, sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire from all of them, her slight figure swallowed up by her cloak. Blay had winked at her once their argument was done, and she had frowned, as she always did, and he had answered her with a sly smile, as he always did.

A few hours had passed before he took his leave, bidding Lyranne and Alanai goodnight. Argur had already been asleep, snoring on a bedroll behind where Lyranne was sitting.

"Be careful." Lyranne had glared at him, clearly still not pleased with his decision, though her protective nature had prevailed over whatever resentment she might have harbored.

"Always am," he’d answered. "You know that." Then, feigning deep thought, he had added, "Though, of course, I’d be safer if someone were to join me." His eyes had flicked to Alanai, but she had pointedly avoided his gaze, sipping her tea and staring into the flames. After an eye roll and a shooing motion from Lyranne, he’d stepped away from the fire and towards his sleeping spot, though he hadn’t been able to resist bending down and whispering in Alanai’s slightly pointed ear as he walked by her. "You know you’re always welcome, love."

She had only sighed, and he had chuckled to himself, walking away.

At this point, after travelling together for more than half a year, Blay had given up hope of ever getting her into his bed - but he couldn’t resist teasing her occasionally, if only to elicit a reaction from the perpetually stern half-elf. At times, he saw a flash of something in her eyes that he could not quite identify, burning for half a heartbeat begore she blinked it away - anger, perhaps? Irritation? Even though he considered himself quite good at reading others, he could never put his finger on it.

He had yawned when he’d reached the place where he’d laid his bedroll earlier, just a few paces from camp, in a small, flat space between two massive roots connecting to a gigantic tree, slightly lower than the rest of the jungle floor. He had laid down with a relieved sigh, his head almost touching the trunk of the tree, and had closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly in the slightly cooler air of his refuge. After what had seemed like mere minutes, he’d woken to the sound of Lyranne’s footsteps coming towards him, up before she’d been even halfway to his spot, waving her off to sleep as he climbed out of his hiding place and stepped back into camp, sitting down next to the smoldering fire. Even the dying flames had felt as hot as hellfire in the unbearable humidity of the jungle, but he’d tolerated it for the few hours of his watch, sharpening his daggers, on high alert despite the most exciting thing happening being a rabbit dashing across the clearing in which their camp stood. Despite himself, he’d let his eyes stray towards Alanai’s sleeping form a few times, only for a heartbeat or two, just to see the way the moonlight highlighted her slight frame and fire-red hair, the way she stretched and sighed in her sleep - there was no harm in looking, after all, though he knew he shouldn’t.

The hours had crawled by slowly, and he had been glad for the end of his watch when it had finally come, waking up Argur and ignoring his companion's grumbling and cursing as Blay turned away to return to his spot, laying back down on his bedroll and once again falling asleep quickly - and, apparently, more deeply than he had in a long while.

* * *

And so, Blay doesn’t wake as the plants snake over him, encasing his arms and legs in deceptively delicate cages of vines and grass, and he doesn’t wake as a shadow approaches through the trees, their bare feet lightly stepping over stones and twigs that would betray their presence. He doesn’t wake as the shadow stops on the edge of his little valley, staring down at him silently for a few seconds before climbing down towards him with a few quick steps, doesn’t wake as they kneel next to him and let their heavy cloak fall from their shoulders.

Only when the shadow carefully lifts their leg to straddle him does he stir, but still doesn’t truly awaken, pulling weakly at the tendrils keeping his right hand pinned to his side. The shadow looks at him for a long time, their knees on either side of his hips as they hold themselves up, not yet putting any weight on him, before seemingly finally making a decision and delicately seating themselves down in his lap. Blay’s eyes snap open instantly, his hands immediately pulling at the vines around his wrists as he reaches in vain for the daggers laying next to him.

"What is - " he snarls, looking down at himself to see the tangle of plants holding him in place before his eyes snap up to the shadow above him. "Who - " His anger suddenly seems to fade as his eyes widen, and he stills. He sounds almost uncertain when he speaks again: "Alanai?"

"Shut up," is all she says, as she finally put her entire weight down on him - though she is so slight that, to him, she seems to weigh almost nothing. He gasps, more out of surprise than anything, and looks up at her.

"What are you doing?" he asks, a slight haze still lingering on his mind from sleep. Above him, she smiles, and her eyes gleam in the moonlight, giving her an almost predatory appearance.

"Isn’t this what you want?" she asks, innocently, as she rolls her hips against him, and he grunts, shifting slightly under her as a long shiver runs up his spine, his body answering her before his mind can even form a coherent thought, a few sparks of heat springing to life within him.

"I - " he starts, and she puts her hands on his chest to hold herself up, curling her fingers just enough for her nails to dig slightly into the skin of his chest through his thin shirt, making him falter. "Alanai - "

"Isn’t this what you want?" she asks again, more forcefully this time, still slowly grinding her hips against his, and, almost unwittingly, he finds himself moving in time with her, as much as his bindings allow him to, her imperious tone making something he didn't know existed within him twist in anticipation. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it - in his fantasies, their positions were usually reversed - but something about being entirely under her control, at the mercy of her every whim, he who always had such a tight grip on every possible aspect of a situation… A tight knot slowly forms low in his stomach as warmth spreads through him, begging to be undone by her, and her alone.

"Yes," he finally breathes, wrenching the word from his own throat before his traitorous mind can manage to change it into something else. He wants to ask - _demand_ \- that she release him, but this feels... Right, somehow, the knot within him tightening even more as the thought flashes at the forefront of his mind. He decides not to dwell on what that means, and asks instead: "But - why do you - "

"I want to," she answers simply, cutting him off. He feels a quip forming on the tip of his tongue, but a wry smile flashes across her lips and she speaks again before he can say anything. "And if I can put you in your place at the same time, all the better."

He huffs out a laugh at that, quiet and breathless, though he knows it’s not a joke - not to her, anyway. Her hands move up from his chest to his shoulders before smoothing back down to his stomach, more gently than he would have thought, over and over, up and down and up again, still moving her hips in time with his, and he can _feel_ her through his clothes and hers, so warm and inviting, leading his mind to places it had been before though it had never felt quite like _this_ , of course, and he bucks a bit harder, wanting _more_ but not daring to ask anything of her with himself at her mercy like this, feeling almost desperate and - 

She suddenly lifts herself off him, and he can’t help a strangled groan as he opens his eyes, not realising he had even shut them. He sees her stand up, and almost thinks she’s about to laugh and walk away, leaving him there, like this, weak and wanting - but he sees her hands move to her belt, slender, nimble fingers making quick work of her trousers. As he watches her, breathing hard, a thought strikes through his mind, in a sudden and unexpected moment of clarity.

"Aren’t you on watch?" he asks hoarsely, and she looks down at him, meeting his eyes.

"I left sentries," she says, almost sounding reproachful, as if insulted that he would think she had left their companions undefended. Before he can add anything, however, she pulls her pants and underwear down in one quick motion, and all thoughts of their friends sleeping but a dozen meters away fly from his mind. Her legs are pale and smooth, though she has more scars than he had expected, silvery lines that run up, down and across the expanse of her skin, with a few seeming more recent - there is one, just above her knee, that he remembers; he was there when a bandit’s blade had cut her deep, almost to the bone. Argur had healed her, but the mark still remained, slightly tinged pink.

She steps over him to place her feet on either side of his waist, and he expects her to lower herself again, but she steps forward instead, coming to stand near his head. She looks down to meet his eyes as he feels a root covered in moss come to pillow his head, cocking her head to the side in a silent question, and he understands what she wants. He takes a moment to look at her, standing above him, the few drops of moonlight that had managed to pierce through the thick canopy above them pooling on her skin like drops of silver, and he nods - she needs nothing more. 

She kneels over him slowly, moss growing over the jungle floor to cushion her knees as they come to rest on either side of his head, and she hovers for a moment, just out of reach, shivering as she feels his warm breath fan over the apex of her thighs - he wants nothing more than to just lift his head and _touch_ her, but he wills himself still, keeping his eyes on her, even as she looks away, raising her head to look up at great tree under which they lay. He sees her take a deep, steadying breath before she finally, finally closes those last few inches, and presses herself against his mouth.

He hadn’t expected this from her - any of this. But as she settles over him, he feels as if a silent understanding passes between them - tomorrow, all would be as it had been before.

He _knows_ it won’t - _nothing_ will ever be the same after this -, but he decides that, for now, they can both lie to themselves, and be allowed to think that nothing would change.

The first strokes of his tongue against her are slow and careful, almost teasingly so, never staying in one place long enough to give her anything but the slightest jolts of pleasure. She growls warningly, fingers scrabbling at his short hair, and he would have laughed at her frustration but for the feeling of his restraints tightening around him - _impatient_ , he thinks to himself, even as he gives her what she wants and presses his tongue to her core, making her gasp and press down harder against him. He pushes deeper, as deep as he can, an involuntary, muffled moan leaving him as the smell and taste of her envelop him - earthy, with a hint of salt, and sweeter than he could ever have imagined. She lets out what almost sounds like a whine when his tongue retreats, though she quickly sucks in a breath when she feels him move up to find her center, a quiet sigh escaping her as he gives slow, measured flicks of his tongue against the sensitive bud, smiling against her as he feels her thighs tightening around his head. He explores her for what feels like hours, and revels in everything he finds, in every moan and half choked gasp he draws from her, in every jolt of her hips as he licks and sucks at the most sensitive parts of her, wanting nothing more than for her to come apart above him, _because_ of him - and all the while, he can't help but think of how warm she is, how vibrant, and open, and _alive_. He had never quite seen her like that before, except, perhaps, in the deepest heat of battle. He closes his eyes, and wishes for this to never end.

But eventually, he feels her fingers clench in his hair, failing to find purchase amongst the short strands yet still finding a way to _pull_ , hard, and he groans into her as she breaks against his mouth, a long, breathless moan ripping itself from her throat as she grinds herself down on him. Even now, as she presses down against him with all her might, she is so light that he could throw her off him with a simple shake of his head - though he's quite sure he would rather die than remove her from him at this very moment. She falls forward, catching herself with her hands on the trunk of the ancient tree he’d chosen for the night, lifting herself off him slightly as she does, seemingly trying to pull herself back together. His eyes flutter open, and he watches her as she catches her breath, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving and thighs trembling with the last remnants of her pleasure. And _Gods,_ how he wishes that his arms were free, so that he could wrap them around her thighs and bring her back to his mouth, to make her come apart again and again and again until she begged for him to stop and sobbed his name. But as it is, he can only look at her as she opens her eyes after a long while, immediately meeting his, and even though he has him in the most vulnerable position he'd found himself in in years, he can't help a self-satisfied smile, chuckling quietly as she narrows her eyes at him. He's surprised when she reaches down and cups his cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, though he can feel her nails rake against the side of his neck, the feeling gone in an instant as she moves back, seating herself into his lap again, back to where she had begun. He muffles a moan at the pressure of her against his hardness, bucking up slightly in a wordless plea, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t make him beg as he feels her wetness even through all the layers of his clothes.

She starts rolling her hips against his again, but it’s just not _enough_ , and he grits his teeth, meeting her eyes. She’s watching him closely, and he knows she knows what he wants, and she’s making him wait for it - his resolve grows weaker by the second, a half-choked moan clawing its way out from between his lips before he can stop it, and he’s about to say it, about to beg and and promise her anything she wants if only she would _touch_ him, and -

She leans forward suddenly, her red hair falling like a curtain around her face as she places her hands on either side of his head, her lips stopping inches away from his as she looks into his eyes, not missing the way they flick down to her mouth before dragging back up again to meet her gaze - but _no_. That would be going too far. She slowly stops moving, and he can’t hold back a whine, pulling at the restraints at his wrists again, wondering to himself which is worse - her teasing motions, or her heavy stillness. 

They stay like this for what feels like hours, with him breathing hard and her looking into his eyes, seemingly searching for something - and whatever it is, he hopes she’ll find it fast, because he’s not sure how long he can keep holding on, with her pressed against him just right, one hand coming to curl at the side of his neck, her warm breath - 

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asks finally, after a few more eternities, breaking the jumbled train of his thoughts, and he releases a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding.

" _Gods_ , yes," he answers without a second thought. "Alanai - " he can feel the word pressing itself at his lips, but still he holds it back, hoping what he had already said would be enough. But she's still motionless above him, waiting, looking down at him, knowing he'll break long before she does - and she's right. " _Please._ " 

He chokes out the word, and she smiles smugly as she pushes herself back up to a kneeling position, raising herself on her knees to allow her to push his shirt up, undo his belt, and shove his trousers down just enough to free him. He sighs in relief as he’s finally freed from the confines of his clothes, his breath hitching in his throat as she wraps her hand around him, exhaling a long, shuddering breath when she starts stroking him in a slow, steady rhythm - he's not a large man - though not small either - , but she is a petite woman, and her hand feels so small around him, her delicate touch slowly stoking the pyre already roaring inside him. His eyes flutter shut, and he knows she’s watching him - he trusts her with his life in combat, he does, but _now_ , _here_ , for _this_ , he half-expects her to stand up and walk away at any moment, leaving him with a sad end to his night; but when he cracks his eyes open, she’s still there, looking down at him with heavy-lidded eyes as her hand stills.

"I want you to look at me," she says before he can protest, her commanding tone sending a sharp point of heat through his stomach, and he nods, opening his eyes all the way and meeting hers as she lifts herself off him, just enough to be able to press him against her and let herself sink down on him, taking less than half of him. He hears her gasp, even as he himself lets out a long, low moan, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of her around him, heightened by her palms coming to rest on the bare skin of his stomach, like two white-hot brands on his already overheated skin. His hips jolt up as she slowly starts to take the rest of him, and she growls, her nails biting into his skin and anger flashing in her eyes; he murmurs an apology - or, at least, he thinks he does - and focuses every sliver of his fraying self-control on holding still, until, finally, he’s buried within her, and she’s so warm that he’s sure the slightest spark would be enough to catch the both of them on fire. She looks down at where they are joined, whispering something that sounds like a curse before she starts rocking against him in a gentle rhythm, slow and steady, though he can see her brows furrow and her teeth catch her lower lip, as if in discomfort. 

"Are you… Are you alright?" he manages, and she looks back up at him, as if surprised at his concern, before nodding; and, slowly, as her body accepts him, her frown fades, and her teeth release her lip as she opens her mouth to let out a breathy moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she starts moving a bit faster. A few moments go by before he rolls his hips up into hers experimentally, meeting her thrusts, though not wanting to hurt her again, and he’s rewarded with a loud gasp as her eyes fly open to meet his, her hands moving to his chest to make it easier to grind herself against him, and _Gods_ , he wants nothing more than to touch her right now, but the plants are still wrapped around him, and he pulls against them again, though he knows it’s useless.

"Alanai," he whispers, almost pleadingly, as she leans down towards him, her hair a fiery wave. "Let me touch you."

Her rhythm slows, and she seems to consider his request for a long moment before she pushes herself back into a sitting position, slowly - almost hesitantly - waving her hand, and he feels the vines and roots unwind from around his limbs as they retreat to where they belong. She’s barely moving now, and he raises his hands slowly, carefully, acutely aware of the sudden wariness in her eyes. His palms find her shoulders first - she's still wearing her tunic, but even through the cloth he can feel her muscles tense beneath his touch, though she slowly relaxes as he keeps his touch light, following the curve of her shoulders and gently stroking down over her breasts, cupping them gently through her clothes for a moment before moving on to her arms, gliding down until he can find her hands pressed against his chest, then reaching for the bare skin of her hips and, finally, letting his hands slide down to her thighs, grasping her perhaps a bit tighter than he should, though she says nothing, and lets him start to guide her in a slow rhythm again. She humors him for a moment, but he can feel her trembling with impatience, and even as his breathing grows ragged with his approaching pleasure, he gives in to her wordless demand, thrusting up into her faster, harder, listening intently to her gasps and moans as she slowly start to come undone as well, and he tries to hold on, to make her unravel before he allows himself to fall apart, but he had been denied too long, and he breaks just a few moments later, with a deep groan, pulling her down on him with a bruising grip on her thighs and burying himself as deep as he can, too overwhelmed to do anything but roll his hips up into hers. Her hands leave his chest to come cover his, squeezing almost comfortingly as she moves in time with him, coaxing him through to the last of his pleasure, until he is spent - only then does she grab one of his hands to bring it between her legs, and he obeys without needing to be told what to do. It's not long before she comes apart as well, almost silently this time, leaning over him to meet his eyes, though she struggles to keep her own open, pulsing around him for a few long seconds before she settles, bringing one hand to splay over his collarbones as she finally allows her eyes to slam shut, the pads of her fingers resting on his throat. They stay like this for a long while as they catch their breaths, Blay’s fingers absent-mindedly tracing soft patterns on her hips and thighs until she opens her eyes and pushes off him, standing up. Something feels different between them now that the restraints she had put on him were gone, and everything was over - the balance of power had returned to its original state. She says nothing as she gets dressed again - first her trousers, then her cloak, only then turning to him as he raises himself on one elbow to look at her.

“Not a word,” Alanai breathes, her voice low - _ah_. So it’s back to business as usual, then.

“Silent as a grave, love, you know me,” Blay replies, winking at her, and she turns away and leaves without even gracing him with a response. He lets himself fall back onto his bedroll, staring at the canopy above - the few slivers of sky he can see through the boughs are already lightening with the approaching dawn, and he curses.

_So much for a good night’s rest._

* * *

It’s less than an hour later that Blay finds himself in camp again as his companions finish packing up their bedrolls and putting on their armour. Argur sees him first, a broad grin blooming on his weathered face.

“Ah, Blay, my lad!” he says, striding towards him and gripping his shoulder tightly. “Glad to see you weren’t eaten in the night by some creature in this cursed place!” Blay feels him looking him over. “Though I must say, you don’t look very well-rested. Perhaps you should have stayed with us, after all!” He lets out a short, booming laugh, and slaps Blay on the back encouragingly - if too hard, as always.

Blay simply smiles and says nothing, watching Argur turn back toward Lyranne and Alanai as they put away the last few things that had been strewn about camp during the evening. His eyes catch Alanai’s as he steps closer as well, and he can't help a smirk.

"Morning, love," he says. "Sleep well without me?"

Her only answer is a long-suffering sigh, and he feels a smack on his upper arm from Lyranne. He laughs, and thinks to himself that perhaps not _everything_ was going to change, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Not actually sure if I like this, but at least it scratched an itch. Thanks for reading!


End file.
